


Spider in a Bottle

by NuclearWraith



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Timeline, Dubious Consent, F/F, Kissing, Oral Sex, Tentabulges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearWraith/pseuds/NuclearWraith
Summary: As in turns out, John's retcon wasn't quite a silver bullet for all timelines, this story taking place on a meteor with Vriska which has however drifted off course, now apparently doomed to float in the furthest ring forever. In this predictably grim environment, Rose, Kanaya & Vriska take up drinking together with perilous results.Second person, present tense, told from Kanaya's point of view.





	Spider in a Bottle

It is, or would be, about evening when you, your girlfriend and Vriska crack open the first bottle. It’s Vriska’s turn to provide the drinks, so naturally against the protestations of both yourself and Rose, having decidedly lower tolerances - she’s brought a bottle of whiskey and vodka each.

These little drinking parties have been going on for a few weeks or so now - originally it was just you and Rose until she pointed out that the two of you drinking alone in your respiteblock was a bit depressing. Dave doesn’t like to see Rose drunk and Karkat follows Dave, so Vriska just ended up inviting herself. Honestly, you don’t think it’s any less depressing now that you’re out in a bigger room and there’s more company. But, there’s really not much else to do these days since the meteor careened off course about… Well, there’s not any celestial bodies to monitor or days or nights at all really, but according to the digital clocks you’ve been on this rock for five years.

It’s been a _long_ fucking five years.

The sessions have moved from your respiteblock to what was the old computer lab and more recently the favoured haunt of yourself and Rose - this is mostly since the thought of inviting Vriska into your home makes you shudder.

So here you find yourself, sitting with an alien and Vriska Serket surrounded by the dust and decrepitness that’s built up in this room over the decades. The flowers are dead, tomes and sheets of paper are strewn all over the floor and nobody’s even bothered to relight the atmospheric candles, so you sit under the sterile glare of the old ceiling lights.

It’s a round table but Vriska still somehow manages to be at the head of it, and wastes no time pouring out glasses of whiskey for the three of you, sliding them across the table one by one. She looks like she just got out of bed and she probably has, given her hair’s an utter tangled mess and she’s still in her patterned blue pajamas.

After the customary protestations as to her choice of alcohol, you take the first sip. You don’t really like whiskey, but it will do. It’s not so bad with some ice, which Vriska has been so gracious as to provide for her lightweight guests.

Rose takes one drink and wrinkles her nose, placing the glass back down on the table. “You know… I really prefer the vodka to this. Can we not start with that instead?”

“Nhuh-nhuh. Nope. Nooo chance.” Vriska leans back in her chair and wags her finger, taking a long drink and knocking down more whiskey in a single gulp than you and Rose took in both of your sips combined.

“Vriska…” You start, after Rose shoots you a glance that practically begs for support.

Vriska takes another long drink before answering. She’s finished her first glass already. “No. That’s a rule. We decided before. You made me drink that white wine last week, and _that_ was disgusting.”

You look back to Rose offering only a shrug, who gives a resigned sigh, before raising the glass to her lips and knocking it back.

 

* * *

 

 

Vriska is the verbal equivalent of a few paragraphs into a long tangent about what she’s been watching lately, her most recent obsession in light of Terezi’s recent reclusiveness being human TV shows, which she apparently has _a_ lot of thoughts on _._ You’d never pegged her for a critic, but in another way it seems to perfectly suit her.

Rose, apparently familiar with at least some of these, had been enthusiastically (and drunkenly) engaging her on the topic, but has since been gradually withdrawing from the conversation while Vriska just continued full speed ahead.

You’ve been trying to stay away from the whiskey, taking only a few sips here and there - by contrast, Vriska has been drinking as voraciously as ever and Rose, despite her earlier protestations, seems to have taken a liking to the wicked elixir. Together they’ve demolished about four fifths of the whiskey bottle. Being the least drunk one at the table is not an unfamiliar experience for you with these two.

While she’s droning, you’ve been watching Rose gradually take longer and longer blinks, slowly lowering herself onto the table until she now appears to be asleep. Vriska has not been taking any notice, too consumed in her own tirade about some plot improbability or another.

“So, anyway this guy who’s-” Vriska cuts off suddenly, having apparently finally noticed you staring at Rose, who has been for the last few minutes now slumped over the table, her face buried in her crossed arms. “Is- Is she asleep?”

“Rose, dear?” You lean in close to her and gently poke her arm. No response. She’s just breathing peacefully.

Vriska bursts out into a cackle which somehow doesn’t even cause Rose to stir. “Awww. She’s such a lightweight.”

For someone who drinks so much, she truly is. You’d have thought she’d have built up a resistance by now, but no. She’s still so susceptible, which you blame on her skinny frame.

“I think that’s where we should call a stop for tonight.” She looks instantly disappointed, so you add, “For our health. That stuff is really too strong for our poor stomachs.”

“But… We didn’t even start on this.” She pouts, picks up the vodka bottle for reference, noisily sloshing around the clear liquid within to emphasise her discontent.

“I really do not think that’s wise. I’m feeling a bit woozy myself, honestly.” You kind of do, but it’s an embellishment to get you out of here really.

“Pleeaaasseee? I want to finish this bottle at least, or else it’s just lying around on my shelf, looking… Tempting.” She cocks her head.

She’s doing that thing she does. Acting all helpless. Back when you were Moirails, she used to use this _all the fucking time_. It worked without fail, mostly because of how jarring the change from her usual persona was. You purse your lips and look her up and down. Ugh. “Fine. Fine, okay. Let me just… Get Rose onto the couch.”

Vriska grins and lets out a giggle, gesturing with her hands for you to hurry up moving Rose. By the time you’ve safely delivered your beloved into the soft red folds of the couch, leaving her with a parting kiss on the forehead, Vriska has already poured you both two new glasses, of vodka this time.

You take a reluctant sip, and admittedly do find it more amenable than the whiskey, though from all sources you’ve heard it hits a lot harder. Getting blackout drunk isn’t really your style, but you’re not sure you have a choice in the present circumstances.

“Why don’t we FLARP any more, you know? Like we used to? There’s like, almost absolutely nothing else to do on this fucking rock at this point.” Vriska’s leaned far back into her chair, a grim look descending over her face. You have an unpleasant feeling you know where this conversation is headed.

“Is there really room in all these pokey corridors? And who would want to play? I only really played once, at your behest.” Honestly you never really got the appeal, but it was really Vriska’s thing.

“I remember, we were on the same team. Terezi got upset I had _abandoned_ her.” She smiles, and you can’t help from smiling too at the memory. “You looked cute in that outfit, too.” She tacks on, curiously.

“I guess I did.” It’s a weird thing to say, but the memory warms you up from the inside. Simpler times, you guess.

“You don’t sow your own clothes any more.” She notes, looking you up and down.

“I haven’t in awhile. Being in a place that’s remained pretty much static for like, a year and a half now, drains the creative energy. It’s hard to be creative when nothing ever changes _._ ” Yeah, it’s going in _this_ direction.

“It really doesn’t.” Vriska takes a drink. “Over the last year and a bit - fuck, why, I’ve even started calling them years now - things have really slowed down here. Karkat and Dave keep to themselves mostly. Terezi has been _really_ focused on trying to get out of here, I haven’t spoken to her in like a week. I don’t really know what she’s hoping for. I don’t think anyone’s seen Gamzee in like, uh. When is the last time anyone saw Gamzee?”

All you’ve got to offer is a shrug. She grimaces.

“Anyway. At least you and Rose decided to start doing this. I was getting pretty lonely.”

There’s a rare sadness in her voice. The sadness in various people’s voices has been getting more common lately. It’s never been uncommon to hear Rose sad, but Dave, Karkat, Vriska; it’s always been humour for the former and anger for the latter two that served as their defence mechanisms. The longer you’ve been here, the more those have been breaking down, giving way to just plain sadness. You realise you should probably say something.

“I’ll admit, I enjoy the extra company.” You take a long drink. The _thought_ returns again. That’s what you’ve taken to referring to it as. The _thought_ , since it’s the one that just keeps fucking coming back up. “We’re really going to be here forever, aren’t we?”

“Aren’t these drinking sessions so we can stop thinking about this stuff?” Vriska seems pretty done with this line of conversation, understandably though hypocritically.

“They’re _supposed_ to be. You started it.”

“Ugh. Okay. Fine.” She sighs. “Sorry.” It almost sounds like she actually is.

“It’s okay. It’s… Hard to escape, honestly.” There’s silence afterwards. Drinks are poured. Sips are taken - gulps, in Vriska’s case.

Vriska stares into space for a while, eyes glazed over, before she turns back to you, an odd purpose kindled in her eyes now. “Remember when we were Moirails?”

“I hadn’t forgotten.” You take a drink. “...Why would you ask about that.” Your tone is as cool as you can manage to make it with this much alcohol in your system, and you don’t pose the response as a question.

“We made good Moirails.” As it turns out, her response is barely an answer, either - from her tone, she seems perplexed that you’re confused at all.

“I was a good moirail for you. You were not for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I always looked after you. You did not return the favour - our relationship in particular lacked the mutualistic dynamic that makes a moirallegience a moirallegience in the first place.” She pouts, and doesn’t say anything. “Don’t you have Terezi to fuss over you now, anyway?”

She pouts harder, and doesn’t say anything at first. “The pale dynamic never really suited you anyway though, did it?” _Where is she going with this._ “You would have preferred things to be a bit redder, I think I’m right in guessing.”

You must have made a face, or gotten slightly jade or something, because she instantly breaks in a malicious grin and a small giggle. You frown and try to think of a good comeback barb. All that comes out is a meek-sounding, “You finally figured that out, then.”

“You could have made it more obvious rather than being all sneaky and sulky all the time, _Fussyfangs._ ” She pauses as if to think, and her face changes. She looks sad, almost. When she continues, it’s in a far more subdued tone. “I would have liked to be your matesprit.”

 _Uuuugh_. Why is this happening. You should have foreseen a drunken Vriska would get all flirty as soon as Rose was asleep. Honestly, she’d probably be flirting with Rose right now had you been the one to drop off.

“If you’d realised that sooner, maybe things could have been that way.” Your continued putdowns don’t seem to deter her much.

“Remember how you used to talk about how you were mine? Like, belonged to me?” Her tone is mocking, finishing off with a sadistic laugh. You don’t appreciate the callback to you being an embarrassing novice at relationships.

“I seem to recall you indulged in that.” You retort. That came out flirtier than you wanted it, you quickly realised.

“I mean, sure I did. I wasn’t saying it was bad. I kind of miss you being like that, actually.”

You just look at her and purse your lips before taking a sip from your glass. You take a glance at Rose, who’s still sleeping peacefully.

“You know you’re blushing, right?”

You look back to her and furrow your brow. _Are you actually blushing?_ Cold troll blood makes it hard to tell. You take another drink.

She laughs, continuing, “I kind of miss you being mine. I’d like to hear you say it again.”

“You won’t.” _Why does your voice sound so fucking meek?_ When you hear the words leave your mouth, it almost sounds like you want this. You do not.

You’re leaning forward with your elbows resting on the table, which makes it easy for Vriska to grab you by the forearm and pin your arm down on the table. Honestly she’s not even that much stronger than you normally, but with the alcohol in your system you find yourself unable to pull yourself away.

“What are you-” _What the fuck is she doing?_

“I’m going to hear you say it. I _want_ to hear you say it.” She’s staring right into your eyes, a terrible fire in her gaze. You feel like you’re wilting.

“Vriska, no.” _Why is she doing this._

“Come on. Maybe you need a little motivation.” She yanks your arm forwards, pulling you closer to her so you’re practically bending over the table towards her.  

Her hand reaches out to your scalp, and before you can move away she’s dug her fingers into the base of your horns and you’ve let out a moan. You find your head sinking to the table, cheek pressing into the cold metal surface as you surrender. Her fingers press into your scalp, making you writhe under her touch and eliciting various embarrassing noises from you.

“Kanaya~” She’s speaking in that fucking sing-song voice. _Why is she doing this_ . “ _Say it.”_

 _Stop._ You feel one of her long legs stretch out under the table and reach between your legs, coming to rest on your seat. _No, no, stop. Stop._ Her bare foot presses into your crotch and against your bulge, and you find yourself involuntarily pushing back against her, groaning slightly into the table as you do so. _Fucking stop._

“Say that you’re mine.” She says more softly this time, though her words still drip with sadism.

_No. No, you’re not going to say it._

She takes a clump of your hair in her hand, pulling on it hard. You breathe in sharply, groaning. Her foot presses further against your crotch, and you feel your bulge trying to wrap around her through the fabric, the rough texture of your skirt stimulating you further. “Tell me you’re fucking mine Kanaya, or I swear I’m going to make you pail.”

Fuck, you can’t do this. You cannot do this. “I-I’m yours.” You manage to mumble out weakly. You hate yourself.

“Say it again. Louder. Say my name.”

“I’m yours, Vriska.” You _hate_ yourself.

She lunges down and grabs your face, tilting it up to her, and kisses you deeply. It takes you so by surprise you can’t even resist. She breaks away, but her face stays only a few inches from yours. You can practically smell the alcohol on her breath, taste the venom dripping from her words.

“Now, apologise for being so fucking coy earlier.” She commands.

“I wasn’t being co-” She presses her fingers into the bases of your horns nail-first, with the intention of hurting this time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being coy with you. I’m yours, I’m yours, stop please.”

She breaks away and releases you, pulling back her leg and letting go of your hair. You tug yourself free from her grip on your forearm a few moments later. You wrap your freed arms around yourself, shaking all over. You take a few minutes to breathe deeply and recompose yourself before looking up at her. She’s leaning back in her chair, looking self-satisfied. She watches you with a sly grin on her face, waiting for your response.

“I didn’t want that, Vriska.” Is all you can think of to say, still shivering.

“Sure? You were very easy to overpower for someone who totally didn’t want that. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone be so receptive to a simple horn-fondling. Even Terezi’s not that easy.” You don’t say anything. She does, grinning. “You’re such a _slut_.”

The sheer vitriol packed into that last word makes you feel physically repulsed. This is enough. You stand up and nearly fall over, blood rushing to your head as you have to grab the table to keep yourself upright. Vriska is on her feet immediately, hands on your shoulders to keep you steady. You try to shrug her off immediately, but you feel so weak. You can’t.

“Hey, hey. I’m sorry. I was just teasing. Are you okay?” She sounds genuinely concerned, or she’s good at faking it. You want to go back to your respiteblock.

You look _up_ at her, even though she’s shorter than you, and she leans forward to kiss you. You find it easier to just acquiesce to her embrace and accept it rather than struggle. It’s only a moment before she breaks off and takes you by the hands, gently guides you across the hall, past the couch where Rose is still slumbering peacefully, unaware and undisturbed by all of this.

It almost feels like she’s about to just lead you out of the room, back to bed, and let you sleep peacefully, but either out of pure urge or calculated intent she kisses your neck before you’re half way across the room, catching you by surprise and making you tumble to your side.

Luckily, a serendipitous counter presents itself, and you just fall back onto it, your back bending over the edge of the metal top. Vriska comes along with you, practically on top of you now as her body pins you to the counter.

“Careful, careful.” She mumbles out a few words that could be construed as an apology if you were being generous before she’s back to kissing you. She’s on your neck, your collarbones, and now and then your lips, as aggressive as ever with her tongue. Her breath tastes like vodka, though you can imagine yours does too.

Her hands come up to your head, stroking your face and your hair, pressing into the bases of your horns and making you groan. You shudder against her so easily from her touch that you hate yourself a bit more with every twitch your body makes. A hand comes to your the edges of your shirt and starts to pull it down to expose your shoulder, before you finally manage to bat her hand away and gain a respite from her advances.

She stops, and looks at you as if waiting for you to say something. You don’t really know what to say that isn’t already obvious about this situation, so you just mumble out, “Why are you doing this to me, Vriska?”

“I can’t resist myself. I want to, and you want me to as well- _Don’t you?_ ” Upon those last two words, she presses her fingers hard into the bases of your horns and you audibly moan. She smiles, taking a good long look at you. There’s something in her eyes that looks more like hunger than anything else. You feel like you’ve started shaking, and your eyes are beginning to sting.

Vriska suddenly seems concerned, reassuring you; “Aww. It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you, baby. This is going to be good. I’m going to make everything better. I promise.”

You can’t really put words together properly in your head and force them out of your mouth coherently. In fact, you just feel totally mentally paralysed, like your physical senses have taken over your cognitive processes. You wind up just mumbling out, in a slurred voice that barely even sounds like you, “I have Rose.”

“You do. You still do. You two are cute together. You are. I really think so. I just… Want you to myself for a bit.” She smiles at you, then kisses you so hard your limp body finds itself shoved back against the counter. She presses forward into you, and you can feel her bulge throbbing and writhing around through the cloth of her pajama bottoms.

Before you can even say anything in response, she’s grasped your hand by the wrist and brought it down to between her legs, slipping it under her pajama bottoms where your fingers instinctively curl around her bulge. It’s slick with her cerulean fluid, and squirms even under your limp grasp.

You’re too disoriented, overwhelmed and confused to do much but limply clasp her appendage just as she has directed you to, however she seems content enough to just thrust into your still hand, muffling her groans into your shoulder. Despite her intoxication, it isn’t long until she pails, discharging viscous pantone come into your palm.

Vriska breathes deeply for a moment, leaning on you for support. It’s a long moment, and you find the reality of the situation dawning on you. You did just masturbate your ex next to your sleeping girlfriend. Vriska’s quickly recovered her breath, and as soon as her focus is back on you, all of those earlier thoughts are out of your mind. Wordlessly, she takes your hand up to her face and thoroughly licks it clean of her come, making a show of sucking on your fingers in particular. She immediately moves in to kiss you, lips still bitter from her come, and when she pulls back she’s smiling.

“You’re such a good girl, Kanaya.” You feel your bulge writhe in your undergarments involuntarily as soon as the words leave her mouth, leaving you angry at yourself for being just so fucking pliable to her. Before the disgust can even properly settle, however, a look of concern grows on Vriska’s face. “Aww, why are you crying?”

You hadn’t noticed you’d been tearing up, but as soon as she points it out you become cognisant of the wetness of your tears on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m okay.” You can’t think of anything else to say, so you just lie. Your voice sounds so pathetically shaky.

Vriska doesn’t seem to mind, probably happy to see you so pathetic that she has no choice but to take care of you. She wraps her arms around your head and pushes your face into her shoulder, stroking your hair.

“Aww, baby, don’t worry.” She says, slurring her words - she’s doing her best to drunkenly comfort you, you suppose. This respite is short-lived however, and it’s only a few moments later that her lust returns. After an exaggerated ‘hmmm’ she’s apparently decided what she wants next from you.

“Do me a favour, and hold your skirt up for me.” She says, words slurring less this time in a presumable attempt to be suave.

You do as she says. You don’t feel like you can really do anything else. She calls you a good girl, or you think she did, before she gets down onto the floor and under your skirt. Now that she’s not holding you up any more, you feel uneasy, like you can barely stand from the alcohol. Her fingers clumsily pull your panties down past your thighs, her lips soon after coming to press into the underside of your bulge. You lurch forward, and only Vriska’s grip on your knees stops you from totally tumbling over. Apparently unphased, she continues to press her lips into the length of your tendril, a hand coming to wrap around it’s base.

As soon as you feel her take the tip of your appendage into her mouth however, the combination of your drunken unsteadiness and the incessant shaking of your legs from the sensation all becomes too much and you crumple onto the floor, leaned back against the foot of the counter.

Vriska’s head pops up from under your skirt, hair a bit messier than before. She looks a bit annoyed for a moment but you imagine you look pretty pitiful given how her gaze immediately softens, and she lets out a sing-song “Oh, you poor drunk thing. Here, I’ll just-”

She takes the privilege of just hiking up your skirt herself, pushing it up past your thighs and continuing her previous activity, now resting on her knees and bending down to reach your flailing bulge with her mouth. The feeling is numbed, and you feel just so tired, but you can’t really help yourself from wrapping your legs around the back of her head. She takes it as encouragement, and through your half-open eyes you can see her head bobbing up and down.

You’re weak, and it takes only a few minutes for her to make you pail. There is however no pail to speak of, and with Vriska’s lips wrapped firmly around your tentacle, she happily swallows you jade fluid without complaint.  

She gets up and climbs up to your side a moment later, lips still smeared with the dark basil traces of your come. She leans herself against the counter next to you, and rests her chin on your head. Her hands flit across your torso for a few moments while she takes deep breaths to recover.

“Good girl. I enjoyed that, didn’t you?” She finally says, her voice a mix of slurred drunkenness, post-coital contentedness and that tone she takes whenever she feels like she’s won something.

You nod, and you hate yourself.

“Good.” She kisses you a last time, her tongue still bitter with remnants of your expulsion. “I just needed to get that out of my system. Now, you should get some rest, dear. You look exhausted.” She leans back, pulling your skirt once again back down to your ankles. She patters off and a moment later returns with a pillow which she places under your head, gently pushing you over to your side to sleep, back still to the counter.

The last thing you feel is Vriska giving your hair a final ruffle before hearing her shamble off back to her respiteblock for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had several fics floating around in half-finished gestation for a few months now and I picked this one to finally finish off. Some other ideas which I have the energy and interest to actually complete might be coming in the near future. 
> 
> Thanks to faithful weed gremlin Nukkun and tumblr user @knavearakes for looking over this.


End file.
